


The Sun in a Rose

by Davys_dead



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, I wrote this for COC 2019 and I don't remember ever posting it, M/M, but I think its sweet, ebbs only mentioned in this tho, hhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 10:27:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24469480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davys_dead/pseuds/Davys_dead
Summary: Simon works in a flower shop and Baz is just trying to get by
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	The Sun in a Rose

Simon Snow doesn’t suppose he ever really thought of himself as a flower person before. He never expected to work in a flower shop. He never imagined that he’d be surrounded days in and out by sweet smelling flowers, always blooming, always so pretty. Delicate. When people see him… see Simon Snow “local hoodlum”...when they see old t-shirts and muddy trainers, they wouldn’t ever see him in a place like this.

“Almost done with that bouquet there, Simon?” Ebb’s lilting voice makes it through the scent heavy air as he puts the last peony into the vase.

“Just about,” he calls, tying a blue ribbon with the address card around the lip of the glass vase. People wouldn't imagine him here, no. But there’s a sort of calmness in the air he loves. The bit of heaviness from Ebb’s ever present melancholy, the sound of the refrigerators all around, keeping the flowers cool, everything around him is so easy to sink into that he’s far too busy to even try to think. It’s nearly perfect.

The bell over the door jingles as someone walks in. The afternoon sun shines behind them in such a way that their face is almost totally in darkness. Their only visible feature being their nose, poking out of the all encompassing shadow. The figure saunters, over to the counter, looking far too posh to enter this sweet little shop in this grey little town. He looks like he could eat all the light up here. Like if he opened his mouth he could destroy everything with a word.

“How fast are you able to make a bouquet?”

“Did you call ahead of time?” 

The man looks around the small room, “I didn’t suppose I’d have to.”

“Well I suppose you didn’t.”

He raises one stark, black eyebrow, “So, how fast can you make a bouquet.”

Simon sighs and rubs his eyes. Hardly professional, he knows, but the people who usually come into this shop are far less… uppity, “What do you want in it?”

“Whatever’s prettiest.”

“Well that’s hardly helpful.”

“Pardon?”

“Oh nothing, sir. Is there a specific bloom in here that catches your eye? I’ll try to build around that.”

The man puts his hands in his pockets and takes a stroll around the room, examining flowers with an excruciatingly intense gaze. It looks almost as if he’s waiting for one to speak. He comes to rest in front of a bunch of dahlias, and they’re beautiful all pink and orange, but they’ve faded and wilted over time. The summer is over, they’re out of their prime. He takes a couple more steps and stops in front of a large cluster of sedum. The small, pink bulbs are nearly the brightest thing in the room. He stoops to smell them and raises up with clear intention, “These ones will do,” he says, but his voice isn’t nearly as commanding as before.

Simon moves out from behind the counter and towards the large clump of sweet smelling flowers. When he comes to the bucket they’re in, the man steps back as Simon reaches down into the water and pulls out three or four clumps of the blooms. He turns to the man, “I can have a bouquet with these done in about half an hour. Could I have your name for the card?”

“Baz Pitch.”

Simon picks a few stray leaves off the flowers he’s holding, “Alright then. See you in thirty.”

After Simon finishes the bouquet, we travel with it to Baz Pitch’s car. And we can see him from the front seat as his posh demeanor comes off. And he’s just a boy now. And when he picks up the flowers we follow closely behind. Through the gates of the cemetery. And as he walks he stays deathly silent. He comes to a large tomb and pulls open the door, it’s not dustly like you’d expect. It hasn’t sat in disrepair. This tomb has been taken care of. And when Baz sets the bright flowers down in the greyness of the tomb’s light, you can almost feel the air get a little brighter. 

  
  


And this begins a routine. Baz shows up every Sunday and picks up a bouquet to bring to his mother. Because these flowers hold something in them unlike any other flowers he’s ever had. They feel almost magic. When he takes the bouquet from Simon’s hands, it’s almost like he’s being given light itself. 

Week after week he’s drawn back to this little flower shop so far out of his way to see the boy who’ll give him the sun in a rose. And they talk. It all starts with Baz asking if there’s a coffee shop he can wait at while Simon makes the arrangements. And after Simon says no, Baz brings two coffees with him everytime he comes; one for him and one for Simon. They talk, yet they learn so little about each other. But they both seem to prefer it that way. And just like the flowers, they blossom. 

  
  



End file.
